The Difference Between Dreams and Reality
by Plus2-Minus1-Brilliance
Summary: Seamus has a reoccuring dream that makes him question things he never has before, like his feelings for a certain tall redhead. Seamus/Ron slash! A rewrite of Significant Dreaming.
1. Storytelling

_The Difference Between Dreams and Reality_

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By: plus2minus1brilliance

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Chapter One - Storytelling

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Somewhere in Ireland, there is a small, two-story house near the edge of a small rural town. On the second story, at the very corner, there is a darkened window with the blinds shut. Beyond this window is a rather comfortable room with tan carpets and walls covered in posters. What was interesting about the posters was that some of them moved, though at the moment, most of the figures were slumped over, snoring.

Littering the floor were most of the contents of the room - clothes, books, odds and ends. Shoved in one corner was an open trunk, empty save for two pairs of mismatched socks and a Hawaiian-style shirt.

Against the wall across from the window was a twin bed, piled high with blankets and soft pillows. And beneath this mound of linens, barely visible in the soft gray light of dawn, was a sandy-haired boy, tossing and turning in the grips of a dream.

This boy's name is Seamus Finnigan. He is sixteen years old, of average height, slightly above average build, quite pale, with gray-green eyes, and the aforementioned sandy-blond hair.

Currently, the bright-blue numbers of the alarm clock that sat on his bedside table read 6:00 AM. In just a few hours, Seamus would have to wake up, because he had a lot to do before leaving to catch the eleven o'clock train to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he would be beginning his sixth year. He had been looking forward to his sixth year since his second - he'd been sure that it would be his greatest. And now that he knew he wouldn't be taking Potions, it was looking even better.

Seamus still hadn't a clue what he would like to do once he was done with school, but from day one of it, he knew it would never include Potions.

A couple of pillows tumbled to the floor as Seamus turned back and forth. His face was set in a look of discomfort, and low moans and undecipherable mutterings periodically broke the silence of early morning. Yet still he slept on, not able to break from his subconscious and the visions that seemed to plague him.

::::::

When his alarm went off at eight o'clock, Seamus tried his very best to just ignore it. He'd been enjoying the dream he'd been having, although with each second his alarm blared on, it was becoming increasingly hard to remember any of it. But there had been…dancing?

With a truly irritated groan, Seamus unearthed himself from beneath his blankets and sat up on his knees, giving the alarm clock a death glare. The alarm clock just sat there, beeping shrilly.

"Smug bastard," Seamus growled sleepily at it, finally reaching over to turn it off.

Pushing himself off the bed and further untangling himself from his linens was requiring much more effort than usual this morning. Being exhausted will do that to you, and as Seamus had stayed up until five in the morning, he was just that. It hadn't really been intentional, of course, but how was he supposed to just leave in the middle of a _Sherlock Holmes_ movie marathon?

Seamus just stood for a few minutes with his eyes closed, wanting nothing more than a few extra hours sleep. It seemed quite unfair to him that he could do all sorts of amazing spells, but wasn't able to just pause time. Stupid laws for the good of human-kind. Mustering whatever strength he could find, Seamus shuffled off to the bathroom for a nice, warm shower.

Not much was better, in Seamus's mind, than a warm shower.

As he stood under the spray, he let his mind wander. This year _was_ going to be the best, he could just feel it - even if it wasn't getting off the absolute best start. He'd done well enough on his O.W.L.s that the only subjects he couldn't take this year were Potions (like he cared) and History of Magic (so he'd move his nap from the classroom to his own bed). That meant that he still had a lot of options open for him for the future. He just hoped all his friends made it into all the same classes.

Well, he knew Dean had - they'd kept in touch over the summer, as always, being that they were the bestest best friends ever. Some would say freakishly so. Dean joked that they'd either end up married to each other, or completely hating each other. Seamus would laugh, and shake his head, and silently hope that neither came to pass. He loved Dean, sure, and so didn't ever want their friendship to end, but there was no way he would _ever_ want to be romantically involved with Dean.

Romantically involved…he'd not really dated anyone at Hogwarts. Once, in fifth year, he'd gone to Hogsmeade with Susan Bones, and he'd attended the Yule Ball with Lavender Brown in fourth year, but he didn't really get on with either of them. He hadn't really gotten on with any of the girls. Dean suggested that Seamus might be homosexual. Seamus just shrugged - he hadn't gotten on with any of the boys, either, had he?

About forty minutes later, he was startled out of his stupor by the sound of pounding on the door. He looked down at himself, realizing he was covered in soap and was holding onto a loofa, having apparently done his bathing on autopilot.

"I'll be out in a minute!" he called to his mother, who he knew was the one at the door. His showers often went longer than she thought they should.

Pushing aside all thoughts, except those about what he intended to wear today, Seamus quickly finished up. Twenty minutes later had him fully cleaned, dried, dressed, and sat at the breakfast table.

He and his father started up a conversation about cell phones, and how, in the Muggle world, they were fast becoming a fad. Seamus was quite fond of the things Muggles came up with, being half-Muggle himself. He always found the differences between the two worlds to be quite fascinating. His mother, however, was always less then thrilled, and he could hear her half-exasperated mutterings as she cooked their breakfast _with magic_.

"So," Mrs. Finnigan cut in, setting a plate of waffles on the table, "are you packed?"

Seamus smiled sheepishly up at her. "Well, I meant to be, really…"

"I _told_ you to do it yesterday!" Mrs. Finnigan chided.

"Come now, dear, you know he always leaves it for the last minute. Wouldn't want to break a tradition, after all," Mr. Finnigan supplied, smiling pleasantly at his wife.

Mrs. Finnigan sent a glare his way as she set a plate of bacon next to the waffles, then turned it on her son.

"I would have hoped you had more responsibility in you by now," she said.

Seamus fought the urge to roll his eyes - no sense in making his mother more aggravated with him. "I don't really see it as a problem with responsibility. I see it more as a problem with memory, and that's a genetic thing, right? Probably get it from Da."

There. He'd blamed it on his Muggle side, which, while unfortunately getting his father in trouble, usually got him off the hook with these sorts of things. Mrs. Finnigan just sighed.

"Just don't forget anything in your rush, or you'll have to go without it until you come home again," she warned.

He smiled brightly at her and dug into his waffles and bacon. As he chewed, he couldn't help but think there was something really familiar about syrup…or maybe it was jam he was thinking of? Shaking his head, he just chalked it up to the fact that his mother often made him waffles (it being his favorite breakfast food), and so he just used a lot of syrup.

It took him approximately half an hour to pack all his belongings into his trunk, and another ten to just double check the house for anything he'd forgotten. By time he'd got his trunk to the front door, it was a quarter after ten in the morning, and his mother was yelling at him that he was going to be late, and that if he missed the train, he'd just have to wait for the one back from Christmas break.

Seamus took the Knight Bus to King's Cross Station, it being the fastest way to get there that didn't involve Apparation. His mother still insisted on going with him, saying it was a mother's right to see her son off to school. As the bus pulled to a stop in front of them, Stan Shunpike hopped down, smiled broadly, and helped get Seamus' trunk on board. Stan never bothered with his speech when it was a returning Hogwarts student - they knew how things worked.

Seamus hugged his father goodbye, promising to "be good, and learn a lot." He was thankful his father was never more specific, or he might have had a harder time making the promise. But, true to his word, Seamus was always good _at something_, and always learned a lot, even if it wasn't always school-related.

Getting on the bus, Seamus recognized some students from other various years. He nodded to a few of them as he took a seat next to his mother, and settled in for the often unsettling ride on the Knight Bus.

They arrived at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters with only ten minutes to spare. Mrs. Finnigan helped her son lift his trunk onto the train, and then spent a good five minutes hugging and kissing him goodbye. Luckily for Seamus, the whistle blew, and his mother was forced to let him go.

"You behave!" she finally said, as he leaned out the window for a final wave.

"I will," Seamus replied, then thought, _In a manner befitting a sixteen year-old boy, that is._ "I love you!"

And with that, the train began it's long journey to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Seamus could barely contain his joy, and smiled the whole time as he searched for whichever compartment his best friend was in.

As he walked along the corridor, he passed several people he knew, giving each of them a cheery wave. And then, someone walking towards him caused him to stop. Seamus stared at Ron Weasley, a frown forming on his lips. As with the syrup earlier, he had a feeling of familiarity with Ron that didn't seem usual.

"Oh, hey, Seamus," Ron said, giving the shorter boy a smile.

Seamus blinked and forced his own smile back onto his face. "Hello," he said. It felt awkward, and he knew he should have more to say than that, but suddenly, all coherency decided to leave him.

"Good holiday, then?" Ron asked.

A nod was all Seamus could manage as he looked into Ron's smiling face.

"Right, well I'd better get going. I've got to patrol, you know, Prefect duties and all," Ron said.

"Oh, yes, Prefect. You make a good one, you know, much better than Percy. He was kind of lame, and you're very not lame, so you make a better Prefect that he did."

Great, now he was babbling.

"Er, yeah…Thanks, I think…" Ron nodded goodbye to Seamus and proceeded up the corridor.

Seamus stared after him for a bit, wondering what the hell had just happened there. He'd never babbled stupidly around the redhead before. What had changed?

"What are you staring at?" came a familiar voice from beside him.

Turning, Seamus came face to face with Dean Thomas, who gave him a very questioning look. "Oh, hey," Seamus said, hoping to avoid the question.

"Hey," Dean replied, not dropping the look.

"Have a good trip over?"

"Not bad."

The look still held.

"Got a good compartment?"

"Four down from here."

The look grew sharper.

"Oh, yeah, that is a good one. Not that there are any _bad_ compartments, of course. They do keep this train in good shape, don't they? Magic is good for that sort of thing. I mean, if it was a Muggle train, it'd take a lot more work for a lot less in the way of results, you know? So it's good that it's a magical train, so it can be kept in the sort of shape it deserves to be in, for all the hard work it does. Don't you think?"

Dean quirked an eyebrow.

Seamus smiled innocently back.

Dean sighed. "Fine, I'll drop it. Let's get back to the compartment."

"Well, if you insist," Seamus said, leading the way.

It wasn't that Seamus didn't think Dean would understand, it was more that he _knew_ Dean would understand a bit _too_ well. And Seamus didn't think that was very fair, considering he himself didn't understand at all.

Seamus knew it would appear that he _liked_ Ron, but that was just ridiculous. He had never thought of the taller boy as anything more than a friend, so it was therefore absurd to think he suddenly had a crush Ron. Right?

But then why had he babbled? Why had he felt so unsure and awkward? And _what_ was the connection with syrup?

"I'm not going to be able to forget about your odd staring if you keep on doing it, you know," Dean said casually as they took their seats in the compartment.

Seamus felt himself blush a little bit. "Sorry, I'm just trying to remember something."

"What sort of something?"

"I'm not really sure, actually," Seamus admitted. It was true - the only clue he had was syrup, after all, and that could mean any number of things.

"You don't even know what you're trying to remember?" Dean asked, a little incredulous.

"I guess not."

"In that case, the best thing to do is to just forget about it. Only then will you be able to remember it."

Seamus blinked at his best friend, then smiled a little. "Such wisdom from one so young," he mocked.

"Mock if you wish, but it's good advice."

"Yeah, I know…but it's hard to stop thinking about it, because I think it's kind of important."

"Then I'll just have to distract you! How about a story?"

"Oh yes! You can continue that one about the Monkey King you were telling me last week!"

And so Dean continued on with his Monkey King story, Seamus cutting in periodically with exclamations or suggestions. And it worked - by time the lunch trolley came around, Seamus had completely forgotten that he was trying to remember something.

After story time, the boys slipped into a conversation about football versus Quidditch (a popular conversation with them, since Dean was a huge football fan, and Seamus a huge Quidditch fan, although both enjoyed both games). As night fell, they slipped into silence, and Seamus found himself nodding off.

Seamus jerked awake suddenly and scanned his surroundings. Dean was sitting across from him, and was staring at him contemplatively.

"Um…how long was I asleep?"

"About forty minutes."

"Oh…sorry." Seamus sat up from where he had slumped down in his seat, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "Was up late last night…or, this morning…You know what I mean."

"_Sherlock Holmes_ marathon?"

Seamus just nodded, and silence returned once more. Dean picked up his sketch book, which had been sitting beside him and continued working on whatever it was he was drawing. Seamus frowned. Why had Dean been staring at him? He was afraid to ask.

He'd had the dream again…the same one from that morning. And this time, he could remember more of it. There _had_ been dancing. There had also been a sticky substance that Seamus now thought was honey, not syrup. And there had been Ron.

A groan escaped Seamus' lips, and he begged his brain not to remember anything more.

"You were muttering in your sleep," Dean said conversationally. "Sounded like an interesting dream - I caught the words 'honey', 'lick', and 'harder'."

Seamus groaned louder. "I don't want to talk about it," he said firmly.

"Oh, come on! I tell you about all my dirty dreams," Dean pleaded.

"Yes, but I never ask you to!" Seamus countered.

"I've never heard you complain."

"Well, you're a good storyteller, and I enjoy a good story."

Seamus crossed his arms defiantly. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Well, as a storyteller, I need material, and where better to get it from then my best friend, who agreed with me to never have secrets between us?"

"That's not fair! It's just a dream! I don't even remember most of it! It's not like it was something that actually happened!" Seamus practically yelled, his arms now waving about dramatically.

"Exactly, it's just a dream, nothing serious. It didn't actually happen, and it doesn't mean a thing. Right?"

Seamus _hated_ that Dean always seemed to have an answer for everything Seamus threw out. Always, Dean seemed to know exactly what to say to get Seamus to give in. It was really annoying.

And so, Seamus pouted.

"Shay, I thought we agreed that's cheating," Dean said, crossing his own arms now.

"No, _you_ said it was cheating. I say it's my secret weapon," Seamus replied, a bit of smugness added to his overall pouty tone. His bottom lip protruded out just a little further.

"Well it's not going to work this time! Pout all you want, I _will_ hear this dream of yours. Even if it takes weeks!" Dean proclaimed. Then he picked up his sketch book once more and went on sketching.

Seamus continued to pout at his best friend for a few more seconds, and then scooted over to stare out the window. The same dream twice in one day…was that normal? Especially considering the subject matter…Well, at least it explained why he was so awkward around Ron earlier. Was Dean right when he said that it didn't mean anything?

Seamus hoped so, because he didn't think he could go through the whole year thinking those sorts of thoughts about a friend. Especially when that friend was busy thinking those sorts of thoughts about another friend, who happened to be female. Everyone knew Ron and Hermione had crushes on each other, even if they refused to admit it.

As the train began to slow down, Seamus decided that that was that then. He didn't have a crush on Ron; his brain was just trying to get back at him for rotting it with hours of television and then depriving it of rest.

…Right?

:::

Author's Note: Wow. I have been trying to rewrite this story for over three years. I've started chapter one at least a dozen times, and have never been able to complete any of them. Obviously, until now. If you're coming here from _Significant Dreaming_, I really hope you like this version better. I know I do!

Actually, _Significant Dreaming_ is a rewrite, as well. The first version actually got up to chapter five before I realized just how much it sucked.

I promise, this is the last version, no matter what I may think a few chapters from now.

A huge thank you to all readers and reviewers in advance. Reviews brighten my day like nothing else can (except maybe a bit of boy/boy action)!

I also want to apologize in advance. I am terrible at updating regularly, because I am very distractable, and have _many_ other fandoms I love and write in. But never give up on me, because, as I think this fic shows, I always update _eventually_.

Finally, I'd just like to do a small plug for a fic I am co-authoring with Akiko, Keeper of Sheep. It's a Power Rangers fic, entitled _Chaos Theory_, and it's under the penname Plus2Brilliance. It's a really good read, I promise, even you're not a huge fan of Power Rangers!


	2. Silver Linings

_The Difference Between Dreams and Reality_

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By: plus2minus1brilliance

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Chapter Two - Silver Linings

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Since Seamus had decided that he absolutely did _not_ think of Ron as anything other than a friend, it had been much easier to not completely embarrass himself in front of the taller boy. He'd only babbled once more, when Ron had asked him to pass the pork chops, and had managed to keep from blushing noticeably.

At least, he was fairly certain he had - no one had mentioned anything.

Dean had alternated between sending him questioning glances and sending him glares throughout the evening. Seamus alternated between just plain ignoring his best friend, and pouting. Luckily, no one seemed to notice that, either. Dean would have just _loved_ to tell the whole lot of them the situation, just to get back at Seamus for not telling him.

Now the five Gryffindor sixth years were back in their dormitory, making things more homey, and getting ready for bed. Dean sent him one last glare as he re-taped his West Ham poster to the wall next to his bed.

"Are you two in a fight?" Neville asked suddenly, obviously seeing Dean's glare.

Seamus cursed inwardly, and turned a pleading look on his best friend, begging him with his eyes not to do the vindictive thing. Dean rolled his eyes in response and shot Seamus a look that said 'you are _so_ lucky I like you', before turning to Neville. Seamus noticed that Harry and Ron were also watching the exchange.

"No, we're not fighting," he said. "It's…an inside thing."

"Oh…" Neville said, nodding, although they could tell he didn't quite understand. Seamus was quite grateful for that.

Seamus saw Harry and Ron exchange a glance before shrugging and turning back to their beds. Seamus _also_ saw Ron take off his jeans and replace them with pajama bottoms. Not that he was staring or anything. Just…noticing.

With an internal groan of pure confusion, Seamus crawled into bed, buried himself under his blankets, and prayed for sleep to come quickly.

And for a complete lack of subconscious visions.

Two hours later, Seamus sat up in frustration. Sleep had yet to come. That wouldn't have been so bad, but he also couldn't get thoughts of the dream out of his head. No matter what else he thought about, the dream just crept right back in. At least if he was asleep, there was a chance he might not remember what happened in the dream when he awoke.

But still, it _was_ just a dream. Just because Ron had licked honey off Seamus' chest and stomach in his subconscious, didn't mean that Seamus wanted Ron to do the same in real life. Because he didn't. And Ron wouldn't, even if he did.

There was no reason to keep debating it. So there.

Seamus now demanded all thoughts to leave his head. He instead focused all his brainpower on a song his mother used to sing to him whenever he had nightmares. It took another hour, but finally, Seamus slept.

:::

Dean had apparently decided to give up on trying to force information out of Seamus, because he was no longer glaring at the Irishman, and talked genially with him all through breakfast. Seamus was more grateful than he ever had been, even if he wasn't going to tell Dean that.

He'd had another dream. Different, a bit, in plot from the first one, but the characters and theme remained the same. And this time, Seamus remembered the whole thing.

No…Dean didn't know about it - even if he _had_ been in it. Perhaps _especially_ because he'd been in it. Dancing…_watching_…

Seamus shuddered at the thought and wondered once more if it meant anything.

"You're not eating…" Dean commented.

Seamus looked from his plate, which he'd loaded with food and then proceeded to ignore, to Dean, who was looking at him worriedly.

"Oh…sorry, I forgot," was his lame excuse.

"Forgot to eat? That's not like you, at all. Are you feeling all right?" Dean asked, putting a hand to Seamus' forehead to feel for a temperature.

Seamus pulled away, swatting at Dean's hand. "I'm fine, I just…I'm tired. I didn't sleep well last night."

"Another dream?" Dean's tone was completely serious and tinged with worry.

Always the perceptive one, was Dean. No wonder he hadn't been bugging Seamus, he knew that whatever it was, it was really bothering his friend. And now, he'd be nothing but sympathetic.

"Yes," Seamus admitted, hoping he was doing the right thing, "another dream."

"Want to tell me about it?"

Seamus smiled slightly, but shook his head. "Not here, it's too crowded."

"All right, next break, then. We can go back up to the dorms." Dean smiled back reassuringly.

As breakfast ended, Professor McGonagall descended to give out their class schedules. Seamus tried hard to focus on the classes he wanted to take. His thoughts, however, betrayed him, and he found himself wondering which classes _Ron_ was taking. With a loud groan that was nearly a yell, Seamus put his head down onto the table hard enough to shake his silverware.

"Mr. Thomas," McGonagall said, coming up behind them.

"Professor," Dean replied, giving her a polite smile.

"Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Herbology," McGonagall read off. "Anything you'd like to change?"

"No, ma'am, that's good," Dean replied, taking his new schedule and reading over it.

"Mr. Finnigan." McGonagall now turned to him.

"Hmm?" Seamus asked, not moving his head from its current position.

Professor McGonagall didn't look pleased.

"Er, he's not feeling very well this morning, Professor. Terrible headache, you know," Dean supplied.

"I see. Well, Mr. Finnigan, you have Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Herbology, as well. Any changes?"

"No, thank you," Seamus mumbled, reaching up a hand to grab his schedule. McGonagall handed it to him and moved on.

"Well, what do you know…" Dean said after a moment. "We've got a free period right now."

"I'm sorry, I'm too busy trying to blow the world up with my mind. Please try again tomorrow, if there is still a tomorrow to be had," Seamus replied, doing his best imitation of an answering machine.

"Well, either way, we should go back to the dormitory. Class isn't for another hour and a half, and I'm not sitting here the whole time."

Seamus grunted in reply and slowly lifted his head.

"Here, bring some waffles with you, or there'll be no living with you until lunch," Dean said, putting a few into a napkin. He grabbed a banana, as well - he was always trying to get Seamus to eat more healthily.

They passed Harry and Ron in the common room, ducked under a Fanged Frisbee, and made their way up to the dormitory. Seamus sank immediately onto his bed, curled up on his side, and pulled his blankets over his head.

"Life is confusing!" he called out.

Dean laughed and sat down on the edge of Seamus' bed, poking at the blankets. Seamus squirmed away from him.

"Hasn't it always been, though?" Dean asked.

"No," came the muffled response. "Not when we were little. Not even when we started school."

"Yeah…it did get a little more complicated in second year, though, with the basilisk and everything…And then in fourth year, of course…and now with You-Know-Who returned…"

Seamus brought the covers down to reveal his pouting face. "Are you trying to depress me?"

"No, I'm _trying _to put things into perspective."

"Oh…well, that's all right, then."

The boys lapsed into silence as they each thought of the coming terror. Minutes passed, and then -

"Can I have my waffles now?" Seamus asked, reaching over for them.

Dean rolled his eyes but handed them over. They sat in silence for a bit longer while Seamus munched the now cold waffles.

"You're in my dreams, you know…" Seamus began, chewing slowly.

"Really? Doing what?" Dean asked, trying to keep his curiosity to a minimum. Seamus needed a friendly ear right now…a therapist sort.

"Not just you. Neville and Harry and Hermione are there, too. And you're all…watching me. And dancing."

"…Dancing? Like…waltzing?"

"No…More like the type of dancing you'd do at a nightclub."

"Ah. And we're watching you…what are you doing?"

Seamus took a moment to finish his waffles before continuing. Steeling himself.

"Having sex."

Dean only paused for the slightest of moments, forcing himself to stay in therapist mode. Therapists don't laugh or make rude comments.

"Hence the honey and the licking?" he asked, thinking back to what he'd overheard Seamus muttering on the train.

"Yeah…"

"Who are you having sex with?"

"Ron." Seamus said it fast, getting it out before he could stop himself.

"Huh…intriguing…"

"Intriguing? What's that supposed to mean, intriguing?"

"Well you've just never shown any interest in him before, have you? Normally my sex dreams are about people I'm interested in."

"I'm _not_ interested in him! That's the whole problem!" Seamus waved his arms about, the napkin from his waffles going flying and landing on the floor.

"Wait. If you're not interested in him, then why is there a _problem_?"

"There's a _problem_ because I'm having _sex _with him in my _head!_ Multiple times!"

"…do you mean that _per dream_, or just that you've had the dream more than once?"

Seamus paused again, and bit his lip, then murmured, "Both."

"Right."

Silence again.

"I think it's been an hour," Seamus said after a while, pushing his blankets off.

Dean stood and checked his watch - yes, it was time to get to class.

"I still can't believe that we finally got out of Potions, and we _still_ have to deal with Snape," Dean groused.

They both understood that the previous conversation was over, at least for now.

"I know…if only they could have told us over the holiday, so we could have picked differently," Seamus replied as they started on their way to class. "Mind you, I still wouldn't have wanted to take Potions, and I _like_ Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"True. If only Professor Lupin would come back!"

"Werewolf or no, he _was_ the best," Seamus agreed, thinking back.

When he'd gotten home that year, his mother had told him about how nice Lupin had been when they were in school. Seamus had agreed that he was still the same, and they lamented the fact that some people were far too ignorant for their own good.

People were already queuing outside the classroom, the Wonder Trio included. Seamus refused to look in their direction, and opted instead to stare at the wall. Dean started up a conversation about Muggle music in an attempt to distract his obviously stressed best friend.

Class managed to be…interesting enough to keep Seamus' mind occupied. He'd even gotten some amusement when Harry had back-talked to Snape, which made the fact that he completely failed at nonverbal spells a little less dismal.

They had another two periods free before their next class, and spent the whole time in their dormitory. Dean continued what he'd been saying about Muggle music, and Seamus decided that they should learn instruments and form a band.

"And what would you play?" Dean asked, chuckling.

Seamus thought for a moment about what would best suit him. "Drums," he finally decided.

"I can see you as a drummer, actually," Dean conceded. "I think I'd do bass guitar."

"Ooh, like Paul McCartney! Which makes me Ringo…so who's our John and George?"

"Um…I don't know. Do we know anyone who can sing?"

"My cousin on me dad's side has got a pretty voice," Seamus offered.

"The cousin that doesn't know you're a Wizard?"

"Oh, yeah…well, do we have to tell her? I mean, if we're a Muggle band…"

"But why be just a Muggle band when we can bring Muggle-style music to the Wizarding world?"

"True. Wizards could do with better music…we still haven't gotten around to the Punk movement!"

"Sad, really."

"Think anyone here can sing, then?"

"Don't know, but we can ask around, I suppose. I think we might want to actually _learn_ our instruments first, though."

"Oh, right, I forgot about that bit!"

The two boys looked at each other, then broke into fits of laughter. They both knew they'd never _really _form a band, but it was really fun to think about. And, more importantly, really distracting. Anything to keep from thinking about Ron.

And, incidentally, to keep from thinking about their Defense Against the Dark Arts homework, which looked brutal.

But, as they didn't have class again until after their after lunch break, they decided eventually to at least try to start it. By time lunch rolled around, they'd each gotten their names and the date written in the top corner. By time they had to leave for Transfigurations, they'd each gotten about a paragraph done.

Transfiguration was, if anything, more difficult. And all Professor McGonagall had really done was give them a speech about how much hard work and dedication it would take to pass her class this year. And then, of course, assigned the longest essay she'd ever assigned.

All Seamus could think was that he was so glad Charms and Herbology weren't until tomorrow. Still, all the concentrating on school work did come with the lovely side effect of keeping away any thoughts of dreams. Every cloud has a silver lining, as the saying goes.

Seamus was beginning to wonder, however, if perhaps this _wasn't_ going to be his best year.

:::

Author's Note: And here's chapter two! Exciting! It's 3:30 AM here, and it's one of those times I'm very thankful not to have a job or school that I have to be up early for.

So, is it any good? _I_ think it is, especially compared to what it _used_ to be. -shudders- Please review with your own opinions, I love hearing them!

I would like to state that, even after reading that section of _Half-Blood Prince_, I still wasn't sure about when the rest of their classes were. So if Transfiguration wasn't supposed to be until the next day, I apologize.

And, as always, thank you for reading.


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